I Can Love You Like That
by SapphireQuill'sFic
Summary: Every couple of months, when the guilt and loss became too much, Harry returned to lose himself in Draco. HP/DM


Obviously the characters, etc, aren't mine; they belong to JKR, WB, and a number of other acronyms.

The story title is taken from the song title of the same, by John Michael Montgomery, covered by All-4-One

The plot bunny was inspired by _**Negotiations And **_**by Mirabella **( theguestroom. houseofhobbits. com /hp/ NegotiationsAnd. html)

"God, Malfoy was fucking brilliant, who knew, just the right angle and all the force Harry  
needed_needed_ and never got because apparently there was some unwritten gay wizards'  
law that said "Thou shalt not plow the Bloke Who Lived like you were trying to reach his  
tonsils on the upstroke," which Draco was ignoring like he ignored everything else..."

**Warnings**: sexual content, adult language, mild BDSM references, slash, all tempered with a bit of schmaltz.

_This is unbeta'd and unlike anything I've posted thus far, so feedback would be even more appreciated than usual._

_Posted 20 June 08_

**I Can Love You Like That**

_Draco Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, his hands clutching either side of the sink, his white-blond head bowed._

_'Don't,' crooned Moaning Myrtle's voice from one of the cubicles. 'Don't ... tell me what's wrong ... I can help you ...'_

_'No one can help me,' said Malfoy. His whole body was shaking. 'I can't do it ... I can't ... it won't work ... and unless I do it soon ... he says he'll kill me ...'_

_And Harry realized, with a shock so huge it seemed to root him to the spot, that Malfoy was crying – actually crying – tears streaming down his pale face into the grimy basin. Malfoy gasped and gulped and then, with a great shudder, looked up at the cracked mirror and saw Harry staring at him over his shoulder._

_Malfoy wheeled round, drawing his wand. Instinctively, Harry pulled out his own. Malfoy's hex missed Harry by inches, shattering the lamp on the wall beside him; Harry threw himself sideways, thought _Levicorpus! _and flicked his wand, but Malfoy blocked the jinx and raised his wand for another–_

_'No! No! Stop it!' squealed Moaning Myrtle, her voice echoing loudly around the tiled room. 'Stop! STOP!'_

_There was a loud bang and the bin behind Harry exploded; Harry attempted a Leg-Locker Curse that backfired off the wall behind Malfoy's ear and smashed the cistern behind Moaning Myrtle, who screamed loudly;water poured everywhere and Harry slipped over as Malfoy, his face contorted, cried, 'Cruc–'_[1]

* * *

Draco had learned something about the effectiveness of a physical attack when one's opponent is expecting a magical one. So when Potter was distracted by the flooding of water and trying not to slip, Draco surreptitiously tucked his wand away, called out as though he were going to try casting an Unforgivable (the shock might grant him at least a slight advantage), and tackled Potter to the floor.

They landed hard, with Potter trapped by Draco's weight. Once he recovered, he started thrashing, but Draco was prepared for that. He wasn't hefty himself – that's why he had Crabbe and Goyle, after all – but Potter was built with a frame that was slight and built for speed, and Draco had started an exercise regimen to prevent a recurrence of his humiliation on the pitch last year. It was proving to have been a very good idea.

Eventually, Potter did manage to roll Draco over, but he couldn't stop Draco from using the momentum to keep them rolling until Draco was once again on top. His prey was once again sandwiched between the floor and Draco's body, and it was then that Draco knew_knew_ that he would win. He was careful not to let his certainty become cockiness, however – a wise decision since it soon became evident that Potter would not be conceding any time soon unless Draco found a way to tip the balance in his favour.

So Draco kissed him. Partly for the shock value, which would provide the distraction Draco needed, partly because he was curious – he'd fantasized about Potter more often than any other student at Hogwarts– but mostly because he wanted to regain control over some part, just one god-damned part, of his out of control life.

Caught up as he was in what he was getting from this, it took him longer than it should have to realize that after the initial shock, Potter had stopped fighting him. He was _participating._

The hands that pulled Draco's hair (once he released them to put his own to better use) were yanking Draco towards him, not trying to rip him away. The bites, the bruises, the marks left by the nails that dug into Draco's back (through his shirt and still leaving marks!): they were all obtained – and given, if Draco were being honest – in a struggle to get closer rather than farther apart.

They never consciously made a decision to take it to the natural conclusion, at least Draco didn't, but neither of them made any indication that he wanted to stop.

Draco couldn't remember pushing Potter onto his front, but he couldn't remember Potter rolling over of his own volition either. He did remember biting that beautiful arse, leaving marks that wouldn't fade for days. He did remember minimal stretching and lubing: 'minimal' because he wanted it rough and fast and because Potter was mewling and thrusting like a Knockturn Alley whore, begging Draco to hurry up and "fucking do it already."

Draco was surprised at how tight the other boy was, given that last, and at how perfectly his arse fit around Draco's cock.

Draco took and Harry gave, but somehow Draco knew that Harry got what he needed, too. If he'd had doubts about that, the other boy dispelled them afterwards, as soon as he'd caught his breath enough to speak. "That was brilliant. I didn't know it–anything–could feel like that."

Draco, lying next to him on the tiled floor, mustered the energy to look over but didn't reply. Harry smiled nonetheless before moving to retrieve his clothing.

It took longer than Draco would like to admit, later, to come to the decision that he needed to confess what he was doing. It wasn't the sex that convinced him to abandon everything he'd believed in. He'd _known_ it would never happen again, so there wouldn't have been much point in changing sides if that were the reason why. But Har–Potter–did have something to do with it.

"_Unless I do it soon ... he says he'll kill me_." Potter had to have overheard that, and Draco couldn't think of any instance in which that could be taken to mean anything positive for Potter. Yet the other boy had given himself, intimately, to Draco, had let Draco behind him, out of sight, let Draco touch him, wand at hand. He'd given himself without fear, trusted Draco to give him pleasure, even though it had been obvious from the beginning that their coupling was not going to be gentle or tender. The Gryffindor had let him take control, trusted him not to abuse the gift. And unless there was one milestone in Potter's life that had yet to become public knowledge (and Draco had made it his business to ensure that there wasn't), it had been the other boy's first time.

It was like he'd seen Draco in those moments, not the caricature he had become, but _Draco_, and the hatred that defined their relationship previously didn't extend past that. Afterwards, the change in Harry's behaviour wasn't overt: he certainly wasn't smiling or waving in the halls – thank God, since Draco couldn't think of much that would have had him killed faster – but it could be felt.

Fortunately for the wizarding world, Draco did warn Dumbledore, and there were Aurors waiting outside the Vanishing Cabinet. They captured many of the Death Eaters before anyone realized what was happening, but the only major player captured was Fenrir Greyback. Draco was shocked to see him amongst those sent; it made him doubly glad he'd come to his senses.

Dumbledore died not long afterwards of a heart attack, though it was only much later that Draco realized that Snape had caused it. He'd had to have, since the Unbreakable Vow his mother had forced him to swear would have killed him otherwise, but making it look like natural causes kept him from being implicated. It wasn't until later still that Draco learned that doing it in such a way that the Order wasn't as badly disrupted as it could have been was also intentional.

Still, the War dragged on for far too long. The Battle of Hogwarts hadn't been as decisive as they would have wished. Voldemort never really recovered but made admirable attempts and came closer than anyone was comfortable with.

Draco's life altered drastically that year. In hindsight, he was grateful that it had, but he never wanted to live through those first few months ever again. Voldemort and his father were determined to punish him for his betrayal, so Draco couldn't go home, and he was forced into hiding at Grimmauld Place.

That alone provided proof of the dangers of the inbreeding of pure-bloods, and the physical environment was very nearly more pleasant than the social one. The Order members were suspicious, even after he'd managed to break a key Death Eater message code, which was a feat that nearly turned the tide of the war on its own. The Weasleys (who were also in residence because of security concerns at the Burrow, and wasn't that an aptly chosen name!) were hostile, though only Ronald was openly so. He was unable to speak to Draco without sneering, no matter how many holes Draco bit into his tongue trying to maintain at least a modicum of civility.

Draco still wasn't sure what caused the brat to stop baiting. Molly Weasley had threatened, McGonagall had reprimanded, Granger and Potter had lectured, both together and separately, all to no avail. Then one day, Potter entered the drawing room as Ron was taunting, "You must feel frustrated by the fact that you can to nothing _useful_, for the Order."[2]

Both Ron and Draco, as well as the retort the latter had ready, were stopped short by the clatter of Potter walking into the writing desk, looking pale and shocked. Draco was about to ask if he was all right – the errand he'd been assigned hadn't been expected to be a dangerous one – but Harry just gaped at his best friend, looking as though he'd been betrayed, and whispered, brokenly, "Don't, Ron. Just– Don't."

And then he left the room.

Draco turned to Weasley, hoping for an explanation (even if he had to provoke him to get it), but the redhead had lost all colour as well and ran after his friend.

It had been an altogether unsatisfying confrontation, and he never manged to get either of them to explain. It wasn't entirely without benefits, however.

A couple of hours after the confrontation with Ron, when nearly everyone else was asleep, Draco found Harry at his door. Draco let him in, and Harry was casting locking and Silencing Charms before he had the door closed. The sex that followed was unbelievable. It was wild, rough, and consuming. Every couple of months after that, when the guilt and loss became too much, Harry returned to lose himself in a different sort of pain.

Close quarters wears even the most noble intentions, and Charlie Weasley eventually put his Gryffindor courage to the test, admitting to Harry that he was interested in a relationship. Draco had seen it coming, of course, but was surprised that the others took the news as well as they did. The Order and most of the Weasleys were accepting. The notable exceptions included Ron and Ginny, though the latter, at least, seemed to be suffering from bruised pride rather a broken heart, and she recovered with remarkable aplomb. Eventually, Ron settled as well, though Draco suspected that rather than accepting, he just stopped yelling about it.

Draco assumed that would be the end of their sexual association, which was... disappointing, especially since he was still confined to the house, which rather limited his options. Harry still spoke to him in a friendly manner, however, and that was not very common amongst the occupants of Grimmauld Place, so it was something he appreciated.

* * *

It was not much before midnight on a Thursday when Draco answered a knock on the door of his room at Grimmauld Place to find Harry standing there once again.

"Hey." The brunette had obviously been crying, which was unsurprising, given their recent losses.

"Hey."

"Can I come in?"

"Of course." He moved out of the doorway to let Harry pass and sat on the end of his bed, expectantly. His expression changed to blatant curiosity when Harry closed the door and leaned wearily against it.

"Charlie and I called it quits. You're the first person to find out." Harry looked thoughtful for a moment. "Fourth, actually. Me, Charlie, and the guy he was fucking already know."

That was a surprise. Draco didn't believe the fairy tale that all the Weasleys, being on the Side of Good and Righteousness, would be happily monogamous, but he wouldn't have pegged Charlie to stray, especially since Draco was well and intimately acquainted with what he had at home.

"Charlie disappeared while I was helping Mrs. Weasley tidy up after dinner. When I hadn't seen him for a couple of hours, I went upstairs. I wasn't trying to be stalkerish! I knew he had to be hurting – did you know he and Tonks were year mates? – and I wanted him to know that I was there for him." He pushed against the door, pacing as best he could in the limited space at the end of the bed.

"I found them in his room." _How tacky_, was Draco's first thought, since everyone but Molly Weasley knew that Harry had unofficially moved in months ago.

"He apologized, of course, and explained that the pain just got to be too much. He said he needed a release, a type of release he couldn't get with me, so he invited him up to his room, and one thing led to another, and I walked in on them fucking." He gave a humourless bark of laughter. "That's the worst part. That no matter what I say, he's going to think I broke it off because he cheated."

Knowing Harry's near fanatical obsession with loyalty, Draco was understandably incredulous. "It's not?"

"No! That had nothing to do with it!" Draco, unconvinced, continued to stare at him in disbelief.

"Not a lot to do with it," Harry amended. "It's...Charlie never fucked me."

Draco recalled several long, loud diatribes after Ron walked in on his brother buggering his best friend, and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Charlie made love to me. " Harry scoffed a bit, saying that, but Draco understood that that was a reaction to the betrayal he felt now, not the emotions he'd felt then. "It was intense, careful, reverent. Not once did he pound into me so hard that I would swear I felt his cock in my throat." Draco's breath caught, and Harry must have assumed he was going to say something because he whirled around to face Draco, and added, defensively, "I tried talking to him about it! He said he understood, that it sounded hot, but nothing ever changed!. If I tried to step it up, he calmed and gentled like I was one of his dragons!"

Harry stopped pacing. "Everything else was great." His voice was pleading, and Draco wondered which of them he was trying to convince. "It was just that one thing. And I could give that up. It would be worth it. But to have him go to someone else!" Harry seemed to run out of words and ran his hand through his hair, exhaling loudly. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm here."

"You're here because you want me to fuck you so hard you feel my cock in your throat."

"Wh– No! I mean–" Harry stammered, blushing, and turned to leave.

Draco caught him, trapped him against the door. Pressed up against him as he was, he felt Harry hitch his breath in surprise.

Draco positioned Harry's hands just above the messy black hair with his elbows bent enough to keep them out of Draco's way, then he drew his tongue slowly along the edge of Harry's ear and felt Harry melt into him. "Whatever you need." He nipped Harry's earlobe a bit harder than necessary. "Whenever you need it." Harry moaned. "All you have to do is come to me."

He ran his hands along Harry's side and down to his arse, revelling in the fact that once again he had the right to do it, before sliding back up to unfasten his robes. Harry remained pliant as Draco systematically divested him of his clothing, as if the tension, the anger, and the hurt had been surrendered along with control of his physical self.

When he was finally naked and posed to Draco's satisfaction against the door, Draco instructed him to close his eyes and not to move. When he obeyed without so much as a nod, Draco smiled, nearly, and ran a hand down his back in praise as he moved to prepare the rest of the room.

As he turned down the bed, knowing they wouldn't have the time or the interest to do it later, he noticed that Harry's hair was a bit longer than he'd worn it at school and was starting to curl slightly, and Draco imagined it would provide an excellent handhold.

The hours of training that made up a significant portion of each of his days had defined the muscles in his back and arms, and they would show beautifully as he strained against the restraints that Draco set on the headboard.

His thighs and arse were as gorgeous as they were in Draco's memory, and they would, no doubt, be equally so when they were once again red and hot and throbbing, he mused, setting the paddle next to the lube and condoms that wouldn't be needed for a long while yet.

After casting locking and Silencing Charms, he stood behind Harry for another few moments, not touching, but standing so close that Harry could feel the air Draco exhaled on the back of his neck. Harry was obediently still, but for the occasional, obviously unintentional, muscle spasm. He could see tension of a different sort returning to the muscles as Harry waited for Draco to move, to give some indication of what would happen next.

Draco admired the view and proved to himself that he could control himself.

Then he dropped to his knees and blew, gently, along Harry's crack and was rewarded with another of those intoxicating moans. His hands spread Harry's cheeks and his tongue followed with long, broad swipes and short, pointed thrusts the path his breath had taken, teasing mercilessly before penetrating. Harry was pleading, begging, by then, and Draco brought him to the brink more than once, not touching him otherwise except to bring him back from the edge. He came, finally, with Draco's permission, on Draco's door, before Draco ordered him to the bed.

Draco pretended to be asleep – it wasn't much of a stretch, he very nearly was – when Harry kissed him on the forehead and slid out of the bed with a nearly inaudible, "Thank you." Draco maintained the illusion until he heard the door close with Harry on the other side, then replied, just as quietly, "Whatever you need."

The pattern was set.

* * *

Once the war ended, they were free to return to their 'normal' lives, once they could figure out what that meant, exactly.

For Harry, that meant establishing a foundation to educate and provide for orphans of the war and a series of boyfriends, each of whom was a gentle, reliable wizard of good breeding, which in the new order of things, had nothing to do with bloodlines and everything to do with war-time allegiances.

Eventually, Harry would grow tired of being treated like glass and get antsy, irritable. He'd be fidgety in Draco's presence until he decided to avoid Draco entirely. That would last as long as a week before he'd break up with the boyfriend in question and show up on Draco's doorstep. He'd be apologetic and awkward and so damned uncomfortable that Draco would take pity on him and ride him so hard that his ass remembered it for days, and things would return to normal.

After several repetitions, the relationships stopped altogether, and Harry limited himself to one night stands. Without the need to break up with a boyfriend before looking for satisfaction elsewhere, there was no more of the fidgeting and avoiding. Unfortunately for Harry, every gay wizard seemed to have gotten the memo, and the Saviour of the Wizarding World couldn't chance the scandal of a rentboy tell-all, so the visits didn't stop, they just happened with less drama.

Draco found more than enough to occupy himself in obtaining his LawWizard credentials and spearheading the campaign for legal reform to prevent abuses that had been so flagrant under Fudge and Umbridge, in addition to looking after his mother and their home.

Lucius had been killed, but Draco and Narcissa lived at the Manor, much to the bitter disappointment of the Ministry officials who'd hoped to seize the Malfoy fortune. She was nervous in crowds, however, and rarely went out. It was easier when Theo returned from the continent, where he'd chosen to safely weather out the war as a neutral party, and moved in. Having him there meant Draco didn't have to feel guilty about fulfilling the social obligations that were required of the friends (shocking as it was that was no longer said ironically) of Hermione Granger.

In the post war years, more often than not, that translated to fundraisers.

Draco stood, sipping champagne and watching the usual crowd, while he tried to remember what charity this event was benefiting. Scanning the room and not seeing Potter, he knew it _wasn't_ for war orphans, and he was reasonably certain that the last one had been something about the Betterment and Understanding of Dementors. Or possibly Wizarding Army Nurses for Kelpies? Lost in idle speculation, it wasn't until Hermione spoke that Draco noticed her standing beside him.

"Shall I put you down for your standard contribution?"

"Of course." Draco smirked as he drank his champagne. Each time he was coerced into attending one of these things, he agreed to match the largest donation made. It meant the Sanctimonious Twats in the Ministry made larger donations in an attempt to break Draco's pocketbook. "I noticed that Potter's not here. Care to share what blackmail material he has on you, or will I have to torture him to find out?"

She laughed. "It's my own fault really. Harry's been in his old 'about to break up' mood but without a partner to break up with. I'd assumed that he was due for another relationship, but two blind dates later, he's worse than ever, so I don't know what to do. He decided those two evenings were in lieu, so he won't be at the Witches and Wizards Against Fascist Tyranny dinner either."

That surprised Draco, since the last time he'd spoken to Harry, they'd been planning to sit together and make snide comments through the speeches. It was when Draco realized that he hadn't seen or spoken with Harry in weeks –weeks, plural– something that hadn't happened since they'd left Hogwarts. And anytime Harry deviated from his typical patterns of behaviour, it was a dangerous sign. It meant he was too far in trouble for a quick fix, or he'd been thinking too much.

He gave half his attention to Hermione for another few moments, until she left to browbeat the guests. Draco decided to worry about Potter tomorrow and made his way back into the crowd to piss people off. He was in the mood, and it was, after all, for a worthy cause.

* * *

The next day, Draco tried to Floo Harry several times, without success. His secretary at the orphanage said he'd stayed home for the day, but his Floo at the house was closed. He ran into Hermione as he was leaving the Ministry late in the afternoon, and a chance comment confirmed that she'd been able reach him without similar difficulties.

Grateful, for once, that Harry lived in a Muggle neighbourhood, Draco chose to walk up to Harry's front door rather than using the sheltered Apparition point in the garden, and he was careful to keep any hint of irritation out of his knock.

"Draco." Shock, dismay, and something that looked suspiciously like longing passed across Harry's face before he settled on an expression of casual inquiry. "Hi."

_'Hi'? _Draco arched an eyebrow. Harry blushed and moved out of the doorway, allowing Draco to pass through.

"Explain."

Harry stammered and tried to convince Draco that he didn't understand what Draco meant, but Draco waited, silently, until he confessed. Neither of them was patient, particularly, but when it came to this, Draco was far more determined to win.

"It's bad enough that I'm too much of a freak to have a normal relationship, I'm not going to keep you from being able to have one, and I don't think Nott would appreciate me showing up on your doorstep."

That was so far from what Draco was expecting to hear that his jaw dropped.

"First, let me worry about my relationship with Theo. Second, you are not a freak. Given how you were raised – how both of us were raised – it is not at all surprising that we have issues. Giving yourself permission to let someone else handle things, to make the decisions, to take control is not a crime nor is it shameful." Harry had dropped his chin and was now staring at the floor, so Draco used one finger to bring his face up so he could meet Draco's eyes. "Understood?" He waited for Harry's nod, tentative as it was, before continuing.

"Now. You are going to go upstairs and take a long, hot shower or bath. Choose carefully, because it's the last decision you'll be making for a while." Harry shivered and nodded. "When you're warm and relaxed, you are going to dry off, kneel by your bed, and wait for me." He kissed Harry gently on the forehead. "Go."

From the sounds of the water running through the pipes, Harry chose the shower. Draco wandered through the living room while he waited, examining the pictures and other curiosities around the room. It wasn't that he'd never been here – he had, frequently – but he rarely had the opportunity to look around unobserved.

About twenty minutes after the water stopped, he went upstairs and found Harry exactly where he expected, naked, with his hands clasped and his head bowed.

Draco moved to stand in front of him and ran a hand through the black hair, massaging his head and neck, relishing, as always, the opportunity to touch him.

"Did you touch yourself?" Given the length of time he'd spent in the shower, it was possible, and Draco hadn't expressly forbidden it. Harry's answer would be a good indication of what type of play Harry was hoping for.

"No." The word was spoken quietly and with enough tension laced through it that Draco knew he was telling the truth.

"Well done."

He continued to caress Harry's hair, using his grasp to draw Harry's head closer when his other hand had finished opening the trousers he'd worn in deference to Harry's Muggle neighbourhood. A reward, if you will, for showing restraint. That Draco was far too close at the simple thought of Having Harry to do the thing properly without first taking the edge off was entirely irrelevant.

* * *

It was the tickle of Harry's finger tracing patterns on his chest that woke him.

He tightened the arm that was wrapped around the other man in a loose hug, and Harry looked up at him and smiled. "We've never woken up together."

"You always left," Draco replied with a half-smile of his own, hoping it wasn't as incriminating as it felt.

Harry's expression fell, just slightly, and he dropped a light kiss on Draco's shoulder. Before he set his head there as well, Draco spoke. "Theo needed a place to stay while he supervises the final details of his own house – the house he's going to share with Pansy when they get married this summer."

"Oh," Harry said and dropped his eyes – in recognition of his stupidity, Draco hoped – and caught his breath with a hiss, when Draco's hand, which had been stroking his back in what was supposed to be a reassuring manner, reached his arse. He looked up quickly and met Draco's concerned stare.

"It's good," Harry assured him, "I like it. I just don't–didn't–" He stopped, unable to find the right words, and as the silence stretched, his expression bordered on panic.

"You don't normally feel cock in your throat more than once every couple of months?"

"Yes, but– No!" Harry sounded like he was ready to cry, and his hands tightened around Draco's arms as though he were expecting Draco to run for the door any moment.

"It's ok, Harry." He kissed him gently and pressed him back onto the mattress. "Whatever you need, I told you that."

With meticulous care and attention, gentle words and soft touches, Draco proved to Harry that – when he needed it – Draco could love him like that, too.

_fin_

[1_] HPB,_ 488  
[2] _OotP _Ch24


End file.
